


Wolfs

by WhiskeyInTheMorning



Category: Mads Mikkelsen - Fandom
Genre: Hugh Dancy - Freeform, Intimacy, Mads Mikkelsen - Freeform, Multi, Rough Sex, Sex, film set, surprise, wrap party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 09:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11734623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskeyInTheMorning/pseuds/WhiskeyInTheMorning
Summary: First time director Sasha Brezky is having doubts regarding her movie. Her connection on set with Mads turns out to be more special than first meets the eye, when he prepares a surprise at the wrap party.





	Wolfs

WOLFS 

PART 01: 

Sasha is taking a look at the half drunk, semi flirtatious crew members still dancing or smoking in the venue. They just wrapped her first feature. She is sitting at a distance now, her eyes filled with wonder and doubt. Everything is moving in slow motion. She needs air. Her head is pounding in the rithm of the bass, a nervousness thrill inside while the exterior can barely find a grip. A storm of anticipation and fear is attacking her. What if the movie is crap? What if she fails? She knows the subject is good, but right now, she's unsure of everything she did, of every directorial decision. She wants to run away. She needs to. The closest thing to it is taking refuge on the terrace, slowly breathing in and out, trying to control her inner rithm. 

Oh fuck...not now, not now, its ok. It's ok. She is mumbling half dizzy, breathing hastily while one hand is clenched to the stone edge and one hand to her chest. Mads puts a hand on her back. 

(Mads) - Are you ok?  
(Sasha) - Ah.. you frightened me. I'm ok. I just needed some air. It's a mild panic attack.  
(Mads) - Doesn't seem mild.  
(Sasha) - I'm good.  
Thank you. Mads, is the movie worth it? I mean, besides the bullshit people say and pleasant conversations and ego stroking, for a minute be as blunt as possible. No polite answers; Is the movie crap or not? Do you believe in it?  
(Mads) - I would have not accepted otherwise.  
Her mind gets lost for a couple of moments, like carying the weight of the world.  
(Sasha) - I started writing poetry in highschool. And every once in a while, I would just delete everything. I would just look at myself and see all those pages as immature and obsolete. I would just throw everything and start again. I just want to throw everything now. I feel like am a fraud. I feel I'm not good enough.  
(Mads) - That would be a waste of my time, the crew's time, and also yours. You shouldn't try to polish this image continuously.  
(Sasha) - I'm scared Mads. It's like I'm naked in front of the world. I'm sorry. It's not something you should know.  
(Mads) - I don't mind.  
(Sasha) - It's like no matter how professional I am, and how I chose my words, I have a big mirror on top of me for everybody to see inside. And they can see every gesture, and hear every word, and it's not that bad that they do so, but it's terrible they can't see it from the right angle. They see and hear but judge according to their own life. I feel exposed. And misunderstood.  
(Mads) - Hey, I'm the one whipped and chained. Somehow every director ends up taking my clothes off and hitting me.  
Shasha is smiling amused. 

(Sasha) - And I'm the one that wrote all of this. What does that say about me?  
What if people assume this is everything about me? What if they get caught in the idea of sex, when what hurts more is intimacy.  
(Mads) - Trivial people would do that.  
(Sasha) - What if they just see it as a clumsy directorial debut of a woman with sexual frustrations?  
(Mads) - Then they would have missed the whole point.  
(Sasha) - Because a part of it IS true...  
(Mads) - I know. I saw your eyes when we were shooting the scenes. But you held yourself good. And I'm proud of what we'we done.  
(Sasha) - What else did you see?  
(Mads) - Pain. Innocence and guilt. Self punishment. Vulnerability. A need for more. For better; for justice and dignity. A broken soul.

Sasha's eyes are locking to Mads's eyes. She's half drunk, but never more awake than now. Mads is taking out a cigarette while she keeps staring at him. She passes up a few glances at Mads's lips. She's torn between kissing him and keeping it proffesional. She knows it's not the first time she has had a crush on someone she works with, and it's just a temporary thing. Mads has something that she's currently missing, so she sees in him what she needs most. She should just kiss him. After all, the blame can be on the count of being drunk. And Mads is too much of a gentleman to be upset. He would take it as a compliment probably. But she could never work with him again. How could she ever fully direct him ever again knowing she was such a terrible cliche in from of him. Was that worth it? Having him close, observing or even smelling him could keep her fantasies and creativity alive; upsetting this frail balance could ruin everything. Not to mention there are still a few people at the party. What would the tabloids say: "another on set romance" or "home-wrecker director makes debut with erotic story". No, she doesn't need that. But why is he still smiling at her. Is he just friendly? And how come he is still here. He left 2 hours ago when people were still sober. Why is he back?

 

 

PART 02: 

 

Mads throws his bud away and comes closer to Sasha. His perfume and the smell of tobacco mix with the autumn air in utter confusion for Sasha. The corners of his mouth still smile while he asks her if she cares to dance. Like a kid caught off guard Sasha accepts his hand on her waist while she uncomfortably tries to find a place for her arm to rest somewhere on Mads chest. Her neck is somehow ridgid, and Mads annoyingly keeps smiling. Of fuck, I want him. Again, a man that is not mine. And it will only hurt in the end. I should leave. Just excuse myself and call it a night. 

(Mads) - Is your mind always full ?  
(Sasha) - Most of the times.  
(Mads) - Would you make a leap of faith for me?  
(Sasha) - A what?  
(Mads) - A leap of faith. Trust me. Like I trusted you on set. Would you do that for me? 

A faint ok came out and Mads put his cheek on her cheek, with a gentle pressure calling for her head to rest on his chest; Let go he whispered and suddenly her knees become soft; she was breathing from a place beyond her sternum, beyond herself, beyond life, and death and time. His smell, and this protective shell he had build in a few moments was something she longed for years. Her blood was vapors; her eyes were wet;  
\- Shatter me. Break me into pieces so I could build myself again. As she was saying this, Mads's hand grasped her hair, pulling her aside a few centimenters, just as far so he could pierce into her eyes and whisper I already did. Turning her around, so she faced the stairs of the terrace, his hip daring and solid against her back, she sees Hugh; What in the name of lord he's doing here? Her insides are quivering, her mind is a mush, like she's a teen again and having her first beer. Mads lips touch her neck and earlobe, while Hugh is watching from the shadows, and storm is pouring right inside her. 

Hugh turns around and starts going down the stairs. Mads lets go of Sasha; Confused, looking back and forward, between Mads next to her, and Hugh leaving, she finally understands from Mads's silence and refuse to touch her, that she has to follow Hugh. 

 

 

PART 03: 

Hugh enters a wooden lodge, and leaves the door slightly open. Sasha is following him like spotting an oasis in the desert. Mads's shadow looks menacing now, even from the distance, coming closer, pushing her towards the lodge. This danger excites her; Stumbling like a wounded dear, with one man waiting and another one willing to chase her down. Willingly she has entered the game. Who's the director now? 

Stoping in the doorway, she sees Hugh waiting. The interior of the lodge looks like his house in Hannibal. Was this on pourpose? As she's stuck in the middle of the door frame, Mads reaches her and Hugh slowly approaches. Caught in between. With his strong hands on her shoulders, Mads masters her inside, closing the door slowly. This is our design. This is our gift. 

Mads puts his right hand around her neck, gently squeezing to say: "you're mine", while with the other hand he keeps her writs at point. His mouth is faintly parted, touching barely the edge of her collar bone. Hugh strolls his hands on Sasha's body; Her breasts are firm and her breathing is shallow. Her back is arching with each touch of Hugh's and Mads. They can smell her desire. The gentle ballet is broken by Hugh ripping her dress apart. The scraps hung from her body while she desperately looks for their mouths to clench the thirst. Mads lets go of her writs and she touches the inside of her wet underwear. It's a moist and hot summer day she tastes. Mads caresses her cheek and she kneels down in total surrender. Hugh starts to take off his clothes while Mads is being unbuttoned by Sasha. Her hands look with hunger for his erect limb, and she attacks it like the fountain of youth. She licks it entirely, and swallows the bulk over and over again, up and further away, almost choking with the despair of someone fighting for it's life. She sucks and moans and begs. She cries for more and looks Mads directly in his eyes while her make up is starting to fade and scatter around her face and Hugh rips her panties. His fingers penetrate her; A moan. Release. Desire. The deeper they get, the more hungry she eats Mads up. Hugh violently thrusts his fingers in and out, in and out, in and out in a crazy dance until Mads cums all over her face. Mads kisses her, both covered in cum, while Hugh releases his erect penis from the jeans prison. Sitting on the floor, Mads aranges Sasha's body facing Hugh; She's once again held down; with her hands raised up, her back is sitting against the wooden floor, and her head is resting in Mads lap. Her legs are spread apart by Hugh and her wrists caught up around Mads waist. Above her, he smiles and lowers his head, so they touch foreheads for a couple of moments; Their eyes are closed in pain and acceptance while Hugh drives his penis hard inside. Mads eyes carve pain and lust, of something she will never have again, Hugh's accepted violence rips her apart in voracious, long and deep moves, while tears run her face. Over and over and over again, a consented rape of freedom and sorrow. They fuck her in turns. Always in turns, while one is violently pounding her, the other one holding her down, never letting her eyes go. The only confused link to reality. 

The next morning, the two men are still asleep on the floor; her interview is in a couple of hours, and everything seems to be just fine as a thought crosses her mind: 2 hours is long enough to reach the airport and come back. She puts her cup of coffee down and licks her fingers. She proceeds to touch herself, moaning loud until the men's eyes open in lust. Suddenly, there was no more room for insecurities, she thought, as the hungry wolfs attacked.


End file.
